Paleochora in Stories, a longlasting Travel, Part 4

Paleochora - Light, heat and unbelievable silence

Well, first a nostalgically transfigured gaze at "Schleichers" Kafenion. The picture is from 1988 or so.

I don't have many really old photos, but if you want to you may help me.

Why Schleicher? In those years we all were reading "Lord of the Rings". I think therefore and because it decribed his way to move, he got the nickname "Schleicher" (which in German means a person who moves really slow).

Actually his name was Georgios Lambakakis. He was a very special kind of character. Opposite to his Kafenion, on the old turkish prefecture (today "Coconut" and unfortunately a new house) you could see a sign saying: "Welcome to Paleochora. Please dress decently". He, as an ex-policeman took this really serious in his special way.

People wearing short trousers had difficulties anyway. Unless they could win his trust somehow. The man owns human-knowledge without doubt. Barefoot-walkers and other "cool-persons" who appeared like they wanted to change Paleochora into some kind of müsli-city, weren't served. The same was happening to people who wanted to read, knit or do other strange things (especially at breakfast-time), you do better at home. A really bad time was reserved for the super-cool types who didn't sit down face to the street like it's usual there, but with the face to the wall. Well done Georgio. I think those were the people who use the tram the same way and look at you with a dull expression in there face at 6:00 h in the morning. Furthermore this was a contempt of the village-life you should share when you're there. In the beginning, maybe until 1980 or 1982, you were a "Xenos" which means guest, and not a tourist. Normally a guest doesn't turn his back to the host (Paleochora).

Schleicher. He never forgot anything, always had his antique rag with him, never deceived anybody and never stopped serving Meze-plates, that were traditionally prepared and tasted fine. He never divided local people from Freaks (if they behaved right). Often there was also a rather dried up small sardine on those plates. Some of the Freaks used to push it from one to the other for hours until it suddenly disappeared. After a while it suddenly appeared again on another plate at another table. But I don't really believe that it was the same one . I always ate mine, so I always knew how old it was. If you were lucky enough and Schleicher trusted you, you were free to serve yourself all day long and pay in the evening or even on the next day. He always knew who would try to deceive him and who not.

As tourists became stranger or maybe more criminal later, he locked his Kafenion during Siesta-time. What else should he do?.

Very nice too was his wife Argirula, she made the best cake I ever tasted. But she had to stop this some years ago for health-reasons. The Kafenion got leased and renovated. Now it looks like an "Almhütte" in Tyrol, but with a nice toilet, and became a music pub like many others. I don't remember the name exactly, something like "Fabrik" (factory?). I preferred Georgios Kafenion but anyway it's still nice to sit on that corner.